It was not often that Mrs. Reade was perplexed, but now--between her duty to her family, her strong affection for Rachel, and her desire to assist her friend--she really did not know what to do. While she was silent, struggling with the dilemma in her active mind, Mr. Kingston went on. "It is since she went to Adelonga that she has changed so much. Haven't you noticed?" "You did not behave very well to her at Adelonga, you know." "Who told you that? Did she?" "Never mind who told me. There is never any secrecy about your proceedings--I will give you that credit. You treated her very badly at Lucilla's ball." "Not worse than she treated me," he began, impetuously; and then he paused and looked at his hostess. He was gentleman enough to shrink from discussing Rachel's misdeeds in connection with "that Dalrymple fellow," but he longed to find out how much her wise cousin and late companion knew. Mrs. Reade fingered her knitting with a placid and impenetrable face. "Tell me--you know Rachel so intimately--do you think----" "Do I think what?" "That there is anyone she cares for--more than she cares for me?" He was impelled, against his better judgment, to ask this awkward question. Mrs. Reade gathered herself together, so to speak; it was one of those sudden emergencies that inspire a brave woman. "If I thought she cared for anyone who was a better man, and could make her happier than you," she said deliberately, looking him straight in the face, "she should have him, or it would not be my fault." "But she does not?" "So far as I know she does not. But," she was an honest little woman, and it gave her a pang to mislead him, even though she did it for what seemed to her a good end, "but, at the same time, no doubt she does not care for you as she ought to do." "I hope that will come," he said cheerfully. If only Mr. Dalrymple did not stand in his way, he felt all difficulties manageable. "It is a great risk; you ought to think well before you take it." "I have thought well." "And I will be no party to making _her_ take it against her will." "But I think she will be willing if she is treated properly. Of course I don't want to marry her by force. I want to bring her round to like it as she used to like it. If there is nobody else, why not? And you _will_ help me, won't you?" Mrs. Reade looked at him with bright and friendly eyes. He was really taking it very well considering how badly he had been treated, and how extremely susceptible he was to indignities of this, or indeed any description. He certainly must be strangely in love with that perverse child, she thought--much more in love than she had ever expected to see him--to be able to put his wrongs in the background like this. He deserved to be helped. And as far as human judgment was to be trusted, to help him would be to play Providence to Rachel.